Jump Out
by OneDream 2Dream
Summary: It started with a phone call, and ended in his arms. Always speculation fic. Spoilers for Always Promos and Undead Again.


**Title: Jump Out**

**Disclaimer: Don't mock me about unreachable goal #25! **

**Spoilers: USA and Canadian Always promos and a tweet about the cast and reclining hospital beds. Oh, and Undead Again.**

**Author's Note: What is with me and Taylor Swift lyrics that fit with my songs? I don't even like her that much... Anywho, who could pass up writing a story about the episode where Caskett will (obviously) get together? Tch, not me! And no, I don't think Gates is as evil as I make her to be. Just- you'll see.**

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_So we've been outnumbered, raided, and cornered,_

_It's hard to fight when the fight ain't fair._

_We're getting stronger now from things they never found,_

_They may be bigger but we're faster and never scared._

_You can walk away and say we don't need this,_

_But something in your eyes says we can beat this._

_-Taylor Swift, Change_

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It all starts with a phone call. It happens as she stands in front of her mother's grave, flipping her badge in her hand. She can't remember when she got there, (and how was a blur too) but she assumes it's been a while if someone is calling for her. Trying to steady her voice, she answers with her typical, "Beckett."

"Hey." The voice responds, sounding concerned. And if Castle's concerned, she is too.

"What's wrong?"

He pauses, and she's about to ask if he's still there when he breathes. "Never mind, I just..."

Oh, but she won't let him get away with that. "You wouldn't have called me if it wasn't important. Tell me," She demands, wiping at her smudged mascara.

"She was attacked." Now it's quiet, save for the soft spring breeze and the far off honking of car horns.

Who? Who was... oh. "Where? When? Where are you?"

He sighs on the other line, and she's pretty sure she he's pacing from the sound of soft footsteps she hears. "Alexis is fine, it's just a fractured wrist. And she's a little bruised, but okay. She was walking somewhere."

Alexis may be okay, but Beckett knows that he's not. "Where are you?"

"It's not-" He starts.

Yet she's on her feet, marching towards her car. "Don't make me check every hospital to find you." The dectective wonders if that's what she really should have said, but it's out now and she can't take it back now.

"St. Mary's, okay?"

The brunette nods, blinking against the wind. "I'll see you in a few minutes." After a quick goodbye from him, she climbs quickly into her car and shoves both her phone and her badge quickly into her pockets.

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She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the two of them in the room, one laying in the bed talking normally and the other sitting in one of those uncomfortable chairs. They both look at her at the same time, and she's suddenly aware that she wants to run. But she forces herself to walk into the room and take a seat next to him.

"Hey there." The girl says, giving a weak smile. Her father does the same, holding her eyes for somewhat longer than what would normally be deemed normal. Normal. Heh.

She looks the teen over for real, threatening damage. Her cheek is bruised, and her wrist is in a brace, but other than that she looks to be in relatively good condition. "How are you feeling?"

The redhead thinks for a moment, then says, "It hurts. But it's not too bad, I guess."

"I'm glad you're okay." Castle says, and she turns to look at him. Their hands are dangerously close, and she wants more than anything to intertwine his and her fingers and kiss him. Hard.

But she has work to do.

"Me too." Alexis responds, looking down at her wrist awkwardly.

They're silent again, so he stands up. "Well, why don't I get my girls something to drink?"

He might have made a face, but she's focused more on trying not to blush and the fact that Castle just claimed her as his. Stupid primitive feelings. When she looks back up, he's gone and his daughter is watching her with amusement.

"That's interesting," The redhead mumbles, resting her head on her good hand.

She's trying her hardest not to shoot the girl a look. "Y-yeah. Um, what exactly happened to you?" Beckett says it calmly, but worries about what the teen's answer might be.

She turns from calm to utterly tense, and the dectective's starting to regret asking. But she has to know. A tear forms at the corner of the younger one's eyes, but she speaks anyways. "I- I was walking home from a friend's house when a man jumped out at me. He grabbed m-my wrist and punched at me and I tried to f-fight, tried to get away. But he just p-punched me and pulled at my wrist and took out a k-knife and knew my name. He knew my name," She whispers, voice shaky.

She nods, quickly pulling out her phone and pulling up a photo. "Was this him?" She asks, showing Alexis.

A soft gasp escapes from the girl's mouth. "Yeah. That's him. Why?"

No. No, no, no. It was supposed to be a stupid theory. Not truth. Not reality. Not any of that. "Who is he?" She asks, now looking close to terrified.

"He has to do with my mother's murder."

Fright sweeps across the teen's face as she looks back and forth from her to the doorway. Wait, the doorway?

And there he is, looking just as terrified as his daugther is, if not more. "I-um, well-" He tries to say, looking back and forth from his daughter to the woman he might have admitted to being in love with.

"Can we talk outside?" She whispers. The girl gives her nod of approval, and they step through the metal doorway. The brunette closes the door behind her.

"How?" Is the first thing out of his mouth. He looks somewhat angry at her, and he has every right to be. It's her fault she went after this guy and someone else got hurt. It's her fault that the lives of people she cares about are in danger.

However, she stays as calm as she can and answers his question. "I asked her what happened, then showed her a picture of our suspect and she said it was a match."

"So you take pictures of evidence too?"

She rolls her eyes and shoots him a quick glare. It's entirely too playful to be even remotely convincing. However, neither of them think about that for long. They have real things to focus on. "Castle," She warns, her face falling out of the look into a depressing frown.

He looks at her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed and mouth straight until he sees the teary gleam of her eyes. Then he knows. "It's not your fault," He tries to say, but they both know it's not convincing.

"Of course it is. If I hadn't let myself get dragged down by this, she wouldn't be in there," The brunette argues.

"But it was a normal case. You didn't forcibly pull it up," The writer shoots back, trying his hardest not to make a scene or pull her into his arms. Both would be awkward, and she'd probably slap him for both.

The woman runs a hand through her hair, letting out a stressed sigh. "But I shouldn't have let it get to me. Especially not if it's hurting people. Especially not if it's hurting you."

He stands there in shock for a brief moment. What does she mean? Is she trying to say- "Kate, you're not a superhuman. It's only natural."

"Curiousity killed the cat," She whispers.

Screw the fact that she'll probably kill him. He pulls her into a tender hug, briefly letting his fingers glide through the ends of her hair. "It wasn't curiousity, and you know that."

What should she say now? What should she say, after hurting the family of the man she loves? What does one do about that?

And suddenly, the answer is clear. "I'm going to stop. I'm stopping this case we're on, and I'm stopping working on my mom's case too, for the time being," She says quietly, glancing up at him with wide, sad eyes.

"If that's what you want, I think that's a good idea," He responds, looking over her head and out the window at the end of the hall at the world he wants to protect her from.

"You need to stop as well." This isn't a quiet admission. No, it's a demand. He can tell by the way her eyes harden.

Castle sighs. "I can't promise that."

But she needs him to. She needs him with her. She can't let him get hurt or let others get hurt to protect her. It'll eat her alive. He's got to know that, right? But then again, does she really think he'll stop when she asks her?

Nope.

"At least promise that you won't go diving into a new lead by yourself. Speculate. Record. But don't do," Beckett says. They're not hugging anymore; however, her hand is still intertwined with his. Huh. How did that get there?

"But-"

The look in her eyes cuts him off. "No buts. Please. For her. For me."

With one final look of defeat and worry, he nods. She's right.

"What would happen to us, say, if I stopped being a cop?" She didn't mean to ask it, she really didn't. Yet it's out now, with the demands and the worries and the wanting.

Her partner answers quickly, but not so quickly it's suspicious. "I'd still love you."

The words take hold in her chest, bubbling up with hope and happiness and adrenaline and love. And it feels good, this tingling that moves through her body and takes hold in her stomach, making her smile and blush. It's really not the time or the place, yet it's a reaction she can't help.

"Thank you." She whispers, looking at the ground, then their intertwined hands. Then she steps away. To step away from something else. "I'll be back," She tells him, the grin on her face giving way to a more normal look. "Tell her I hope she feels better."

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There's only one detective from her team there when she walks in the door, typing away on his computer. Notes, she suspects. He doesn't usually play solitaire until he's procrastinating his paperwork. "Hey, Espo," She calls.

He glances up, momentary surprise in his eyes. "Wasn't expecting you to be back yet, Beckett," The Latino says, giving a quick smile and looking around the room. "Been way too quiet."

"Where's Ryan?" She asks, glancing at the empty desk.

He stands up, shrugging. "Something about his wife having some eye appointment and needing someone to drive her home, He responds, dragging out the word wife and shrugging. "They're so sickeningly cute. It's annoying."

The brunette nods, agreeing. They kind of are... "Anyways, I have a favour to ask," She starts.

"Shoot," He responds, hands in his pockets.

"Can we, um, take this case off?" Beckett asks quickly.

It's hard to miss the confusion in his eyes. "You want to take a case off? Why? What is it?" His voice is part teasing and part real concern.

She nods, looking at the floor. "It has to do with my mom," The female detective breathes. "They came after Alexis."

He looks at her, understanding and shocked. "Damn. Is she okay?" He questions, eyes wide.

"More or less. She's probably mentally scarred, but physically she's okay." She exhales in relief. "Come with? To tell her?" She questions, nodding at the boss's office.

"Sure."

They walk without talking, her heart beating and mind racing. What will she say? How will she react? Will it go smoothly? He knocks on the door for her, and after a muffled 'Come in' she twists the doorknob.

Gates is sitting calmly, closing a window on her computer. After a moment of silence, she says, "Is there a reason you're here?"

With Montgomery, it would have been so much easier. "My team requests to take off this case."

She raises an eyebrow in what looks to be cruel amusement. "And you believe you should do that because of what?"

The brunette is gritting her teeth now, attempting not to give the woman a death glare. It's probably not working. "I do not feel comfortable working this case, and nor does my team."

"Care to share why?"

It's not a request, it's a demand, she tells herself. There's no answering 'no'. "It has to do with my mother's case, sir." She won't bring Castle or his daughter into this: that would make things worse.

However, the woman raises her eyebrows and scoffs. "I don't care about your family problems," She states, an edge of arrogance to her voice. And not the good kind.

She wants to punch her in the face; he looks a little like he wants to as well. "Excuse me?"

"Was my answer not clear?" The boss asks evilly. What is there to do now? She can keep working and hurt him, hurt them. Or...

She takes out her gun and places it on the desk. The man behind her seems somewhat surprised but stays his ground. "Well then," She starts with sass, pulling out her badge as well. "I resign."

And then she's walking for the door, gulping down the regret and tears rising to the surface. "I'll be back to get my things." Her hands twist the cool brass for the last time as she steps out into the bullpen towards her desk. Then she grabs her coat from the hanger, tosses it over her shoulders, and opts for the stairs.

The run down is quick and overtaken by questions. When will she tell him? Will they be okay? How will she deal? What will she do now?

The brunette opens the door and flies out into the fresh air. She doesn't have to know everything. She can't know everything. And even though she feels crazy and mentally unstable and a bit like breaking down, she notices how bright the sky is.

However, the sky, like her mood, changes rapidly. The sky, once light and airy, is covered by dark and looming clouds. Where should she go? What should she do? In her weary haste, she finds herself at an ever familiar playground. The one where she told him about the wall.

_"And you know that wall I was telling you about? Well, it's coming down."_

But is it really? Was it ever, or was she so blinded by love that she thought it was? Isn't that how she knows her wall is coming down? Because she can fall in love with Castle over and over again and she wants to? There's too many questions and not enough answers. She doesn't want to think about it, and yet, she is.

The sky cries on her, tears falling onto her hair, her nose, her clothes. Before she knows it, she's sopping wet. How long has it been? Checking her watch, she realizes that it's been two hours since she resigned. Almost three since she saw him.

That's too long.

She knows where she's going.

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When he opens the door, he looks somewhat confused. It could be because, really, when has she ever come to him? It could be because she's soaked through.

She's not thinking about that when she walks through the door.

She's not thinking about turning back when she kisses him.

And when he kisses her back, one hand twisted in her hair and the other clasped around her waist, all she's thinking about is how glad she is that things do change.


End file.
